


my home

by boxerzayn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, this is just so fluffy sigh, zayn wears a flowercrown in the begginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:29:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxerzayn/pseuds/boxerzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn stays at nialls home in ireland in the summer and they're sleepy and in love</p>
            </blockquote>





	my home

**Author's Note:**

> this is exactly like everything else i write im sorry

zayn swipes his hair and the flowecrown back from his forehead. he looks out over the sea. the waves are quieter and smaller than yesterday. the beach is less peaceful today, though. there are small children running around and mums running after them with sunscreen in their hands and there are bikini wearing girls who are unnaturally tanned for being only the beggining of the summer.  
zayn doesn’t really pay any attention to the girls, though. he looks as the waves roll in on the beach, guesses wich will flush up and distroy the sand castles and wich will barely make it to the shore until they’re dragged back into the sea. it’s kinda fashinating, zayn thinks, that it’s the waves who look big out on the open sea, that have already bloomed out into a splash of foam, and doesn’t go far when they actually reach the beach.  
he looks at niall playing around in the water, hair soaked and stuck to his forehead. he looks pale, with the sun shining on his skin and making it glow in an almost silvery colour.  
zayn sits in the sand for a couple of minutes, totally spaced out from all the people on the beach, until niall comes up from the sea dripping of the salty cold water.  
zayns lips twitch into a smile when he sees him coming and he can’t do anything but laugh when niall pulls him in for a hug even though he’s dripping with water. zayn gets all wet but his stomach feels warm from the laughter that settles there and when niall pulls away, having compelety soaked him, he isn’t even mad although though he whines a little. niall knows though, that zayn adores him loads, and he just chuckles and wrappes his towel around his body.  
they walk back up from the beach, and zayn tries his best to not get more sand in his shoes. niall is barefoot.  
they reach the road, and niall has still only got his towel and swim trunks but it’s warm to be ireland, and the pavement looks hot under nialls feet.  
zayn sighs, and takes nialls wet hand. they walk like that all the way home to nialls cottage, and they probably look a little out of place -one blonde soaked boy with a towel around his body, and one blackhaired with a flowercrown on his head and a sweater and jeans and shoes and the whole package- but they really, really, don’t care, and it’s kinda like there’s coming music out of them and their smiles, as they walk up the road, even though they don’t say a word.

when they come back zayn feels exausted even though he’s done nothing today exept make breakfast and watch niall swim in the sea and walk him home. he lays down on the bed and watches through sleepy lids as niall strips of his trunks and changes into a new pare of boxers and sweatpants. when he can’t find a sweater he steals one from zayns bag and zayn doesn’t even care. it will smell like niall and saltwater later and, that’s fine to zayn when he’s off with his family for the rest of the summer.  
niall drops himself on the bed next to zayn and snuggles up close to him. his hair is cold and sticky against zayns cheek, having half dried now, but his body is warm next to the other boy’s, and it’s cozy. zayn falls asleep with heavy eyelids but the rest of him feels light, like he’s on clouds or something equally cliché.

they wake up a couple of hours later, still close together on the bed, and niall claims he’s starving, so he walks out into the kitchen and calls for take away while zayn burrows his head into the pillow again. it smells like salt and hairwax and flowers (his flowercrown has fallen of during the nap but he doesn’t mind putting it on again, it’s already kinda squished)

they eat the chinese take away on the sofa and niall puts on grease on the vcr but zayn mostly watches niall and his sleepy, blond eyelashes and pink lips as he blinks and eats.  
“damn, olivia newton-john was fit back then” niall exlaims and zayn quietly mumbles “don’t talk with your mouth full, darling” but niall ignores him.  
he shruggs; “john travolta was pretty fine too, though. who’d you rather shag, zayn?”  
zayn laughes loudly and looks at niall with unhelpable fondness in his eyes. “‘d only shag you, niall”

they fall asleep on the couch later, when they’ve had a couple of beers and popcorn (that zayn burned and refused to eat but niall chewed up eventually) and watched grease 2   
aswell and argreed about that the second film is defiantly crappier.

zayn wakes up in the early hours of the night a couple of days later, alone on the couch. niall was tired and went to sleep several hours earlier and zayn had stayed up and watched a horror movie and been too scared to walk upstairs to the bedroom afterwards.  
the sun is almost starting to rise outside, the sky yellow. the air looks foggy and the grass all wet. zayn wants to walk out, barefoot, drag out a chair and sit in the garden and watch the sun go up until his feet have dried and niall has woken up.  
it’s cold outside though, he bets, and instead he snuggles down under the blankets; goes back to sleep.

it’s a bit too cold without a decent duvet though (and zayn can never sleep good when he’s cold) and he wakes up another few hours later, sweat-sticky and breath hitched in his throat from the bad dream. it takes him a couple of moments to remember where he is, what’s real and what he just dreamt up, and when he stands up the world is spinning and it almost goes compelety black before his eyes.  
he tasses up the stairs, avoids the steps in the staircase that niall has learned him squeak particularly loud, and tiptoes into nialls bedroom quietly.  
niall is fully asleep and he looks so content, and zayn decides to not wake him up, just slides down on the a bit too narrow bed next to the warm body. he listenes to the rise and fall of nialls chest when he breathes and he drags in the smell of niall and fruit shampoo and saltwater and he tries to sleep, he really does, but he can’t get the nightmare out of his head.   
“hey… zayn” niall purrs with his low pitched morning voice.  
zayn opens his eyes, having never really fallen asleep, and mumbles a “hey”  
“i had to sleep alone last night” niall complains softly. “didn’t like it. did you fall asleep downstairs?”  
zayn ‘mhmm’s. “didn’t meen to wake you up.”  
“no, it’s fine, baby” niall murmurs into zayns neck. it still sends shiver down zayns spine.  
“i had a bad dream”  
“oh yeah?” niall asks, turning to face zayn.  
“yeah… listen, you’ve gotta promise me… to not flirt with any of the pretty girls down on the beach when i’m in bradford. i know i-“  
niall interupts him with a laughter a bit too loud for the early hour. it settles some kind of warmth and comfort in zayns chest though, so it’s kinda nice.  
“but i’m serious, niall. i dreamt that you were with someone else, and we’ll be apart for weeks now, and i know you’re kind of a hunk-“  
“hey!”  
“no offence, babe, but don’t. just. don’t sleep with anyone else. it would crush me. i know you wouldn’t, it’s just”  
“alright, alrigt, alright” niall mumbles and kisses zayn on the mouth. it’s a lazy kiss, but its gentle and somehow a promise too; sincere  
“unless it’s olivia newton-john or john travolta”  
zayn puffs out a laugh. “yeah, okay.”


End file.
